


I'll Be Home for Dinner

by Kaye_21



Series: How Sonny and Rafael Got Their Groove Back [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Character Study, Feelings, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Smut, Or Maybe Not so Mild, Pining, Sonny-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:27:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaye_21/pseuds/Kaye_21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny was beginning to question his place on the team. Reassurance came from the most unexpected of places. (Barba. It came from Barba.)</p><p>In which there is pining, snarking, flirting, blushing, touching, kissing, grinding, late night dinners, pizza, cannoli, beers, bottles of wine, red ties and ratty t-shirts. </p><p>And also a bit of angst. Wrapped in a lot of fluff. Inside the enigma that is Sonny Carisi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home for Dinner

It was starting to get to him. Sure, Sonny had made a typically terrible first impression and, yeah, he had a tendency to put his foot in his mouth. But he wasn’t that bad. Was he? It wasn’t like he couldn’t take a joke, either. Sonny could tell when the other detectives were harmlessly messing with him, just teasing the newbie, and he was easy-going enough to laugh it off. But things were getting worse.

Things were getting to the point where his colleagues were flat-out telling him that maybe working Special Victims wasn’t for him. That he couldn’t cut it. That was a lot harder to swallow. Sonny had tried to bide his time, believing that, if he proved himself with hard work, he’d finally be treated as a member of the team, but that clearly hadn’t worked. He had also thought that, in time, the others would come to see him as endearing instead of just annoying. Unfortunately, it appeared that he was severely overestimating his charms.

Sonny had been with the squad for six months now, and acceptance had never seemed more distant. But, if he was honest with himself, he couldn’t really blame the other detectives. This wasn’t the first time. Sonny hadn’t exactly made friends at any of his old precincts either – and there were a lot of them. He always used to chalk that up to the fact he never stuck around long enough, but he was starting to question that now.

What if the more he stuck around, the more people hated him? That was… harsh. But maybe it was also something to consider. So Sonny did. It was true that he was a little rough around the edges and there was a lot of room for improvement, definitely in terms of his professional skills, but Sonny genuinely thought he was making progress. He had his faults, to be sure, but did that mean that everyone around him had to constantly make fun of him? Plus, he never seemed to have that problem with his friends at Fordham, he was pretty popular there.

That thought led Sonny to another; what if it was a chemistry issue? What if the problem was that Sonny was just not the right fit for this particular squad? What if that particular group of people didn’t click? What if it wasn’t his fault? Now, Sonny was self-aware enough to realize that he was entertaining that notion because it was easier on his self-esteem; still, that didn’t mean it couldn’t also be true. The problem was that even this scenario didn’t let him off the hook; it wasn’t like he could just up and leave. Not again. Not with his career trajectory.

Sonny had never liked working Homicide and he had transferred out at the earliest opportunity. He had always felt he had the potential to really help people at Special Victims, but his early attempts had been spectacular failures. He had lasted two months on Staten Island – which stung because it was his home –, less than one month in Brooklyn and less than a week in Queens. It wasn’t just that he was running out of options; it was also that he had managed to last that long at Manhattan SVU. Six months. A personal best, at least when it came to working Special Victims. He owed it to himself to try and make that work.

But, in all honesty, there was one other reason Sonny was hesitant to accept that Manhattan SVU wasn’t for him. He liked it there, plain and simple. The other detectives didn’t care for him, but he liked them well enough. He hadn’t felt this good about a job in a long time. Which, admittedly, was kind of sad. 

Still, Sonny had come to enjoy it when Rollins messed with him; he’d come to understand that Amaro wasn’t out to get him, he was just in a sour mood a lot of the time; he’d come to appreciate Benson’s exasperation when she’d roll her eyes and say “Carisi…” because it was usually followed by advice; and then there was Fin, the only one who had never really been mean to him and that had to count for something, right?

And, well, Sonny would never admit it out loud, but he had come to relish the moments when Barba would snappily dismiss his totally unnecessary legal observations. It amused him to no end. Those glares Barba would send in his general direction were often the highlight of Sonny’s day. Which, frankly, said a lot about his days.

Still; Sonny was easy-going, but he wasn’t that easy-going. He realized that this whole ‘messing with the new guy’ thing had been going on far on too long. Sonny was still new, and he did need to absorb a lot, and he did need to be more mindful of the crap he sprouted off. But, even after six months, the squad still kept pointing out all the ways in which he just didn’t get it. And it wasn’t so he could learn; only Benson seemed to want him to get better. The others seemed to just want him gone.

Time seemed to be working against him, and Sonny couldn’t afford to stay in denial much longer; leaving was obviously an option worth looking into. Plus, Sonny had heard that you should never get a job somewhere if you’ve worked there as an intern. Maybe that applied to him too; he’d been the new guy who knew nothing about working Special Victims. Much as he had improved, much as he’d learned to hold his tongue a little, much as he’d upgraded his wardrobe, the rest of the squad would probably always see him as that brash guy with that horrible moustache and those tacky ties.

Maybe that was it; maybe Sonny was supposed to grin and bear it, learn the ropes at Manhattan SVU and then go work somewhere else. Maybe he’d show up at his new precinct not as a green, mustachioed brute but as a sleek, well-dressed and at least somewhat experienced SVU detective. Maybe then he’d get some respect. And maybe the fact Sonny associated respect with the lack of hair on his upper lip was also kind of sad. Oh well.

This new outlook gave him purpose. He decided to start treating his time with the squad simply as a training opportunity, something temporary to prepare him for his next job, the one which would hopefully stick. And Sonny had another thought; he was about halfway through his final semester at Fordham Law; what if he waited until he’d completed his degree and then put in for a transfer? That would look good on his resume; impressive, one might say. Maybe then people would look at him differently. Maybe then he’d get a reaction other than a crabby dismissal of his choice of school – not everyone could get into Harvard Law,  _ counselor _ . Maybe then someone would even admire the fact that all of Sonny’s hard work had paid off. 

~ ~ ~

Sonny was still considering his options when the squad seemed to make the decision easier for him. It was a last straw type of thing. One more time he was deemed inessential. The team had caught a case that apparently required more sensitivity than they thought Sonny could muster. So, as the rest of the squad made the trip to Chicago, where their suspect had fled to, he was told to stay back and ‘hold down the fort’. But, of course, Sonny had no authorization to investigate cases on his own, and he was explicitly ordered to call for backup as soon as anything happened. So ‘holding down the fort’ meant ‘do paperwork, sit around, maybe study for a class’.

Sonny wasn’t expecting to tag along. But he did expect one more person to stay behind, maybe Fin or Amaro; someone more experienced who would at least work a case with him as the rest were dealing with the matter on hand. But no; apparently, Sonny could only be trusted with one thing; waiting by the phone. So, paperwork it was. And, well, if he happened to fill out some application forms for his transfer while he was at it, all the better.

Right as Sonny was trying to decide whether he should fill out the date on the forms and sign the transfer request, or be a coward and delay the inevitable some more, Barba walked in the mostly empty precinct. He looked around and his eyes zeroed in on Sonny, the only familiar face. Then, with a sneer Sonny masochistically found hilarious, Barba approached his desk. Fortunately Sonny had time to put away the forms and pull up a few textbooks, since he was not yet ready to admit he was basically being a quitter.

Barba clearly wasn’t looking for him specifically, and Sonny clamped down on his disappointment. The ADA simply wanted to drop off some documents for Benson but he didn’t want to leave them in her empty office, so he thought he’d leave them with the precinct’s glorified secretary. Sonny quickly said he’d take care of it, but Barba still managed to get one dig in: “Are you sure you can handle that, Carisi? Aren’t you too busy with your homework?” 

Sonny tried to practice holding his tongue some more and calmly replied, “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

Barba actually seemed taken aback by the non-reaction. Like he was expecting his comment to annoy Sonny and he was let down when it didn’t work. He just stood there for a few seconds until Sonny’s irritation got the better of him: “What is it counselor? Wanna see my report card?”

Strangely, that comment seemed to please Barba, who took another shot at him: “No, but if you need any help with your science project call my office, I’m sure I can pencil you in.”

Sonny scoffed and said, “Goodnight counselor,” as he pointedly went back to his textbook; he was too preoccupied to dwell on Barba’s weirdness. Or his aftershave. Barba was just an arrogant jerk. A sexy arrogant jerk. Who had kind of made his night. By mocking him. And there it was; a new low for Sonny.

The weeks passed and, despite his best efforts not to care, Sonny was beginning to feel miserable. He was always excited to be in the squad room, he was always annoyingly upbeat. Now that he was in strict training mode, he couldn’t even muster up the willpower to annoy the others. He told himself that he was feeling bad for leaving, that he didn’t want to get any more attached to the squad than he already was. But, deep down, Sonny knew that the attachments he had formed were pretty much one-sided.

So he just stuck to doing his job, no frills. Obviously he still made contributions to the cases; maybe his bedside manner left something to be desired, but his instincts hadn’t failed him yet. The difference was that Sonny was no longer trying to fit in; he was no longer yearning for anyone’s approval. There was no need for that since he’d be leaving soon, anyway.

So, Sonny stopped joking with Rollins. He stopped asking Amaro and Fin to go bowling with him. He stopped eagerly going to Sergeant Benson with questions, instead choosing to sit back and observe, taking notes on the ‘more tactful’ methods of his more experienced colleagues. He even stopped bringing food to the squad room, having lost his own appetite, a sure sign of misery for him.

Lastly, in what was the biggest sacrifice as far as Sonny was concerned – partly because it helped him with law school and partly because he perversely enjoyed being the object of the man’s wrath – he stopped pestering Barba with his creative, if unwarranted, legal input. The ADA had never seemed to appreciate it anyway.

~ ~ ~

A few weeks later, Sonny was forced to put his resolve to the test; he was supposed to meet Barba in his office for a briefing and, for once, they’d be alone. Sonny was secretly – and shamefully – thrilled. But he was also anxious; he didn’t think a private display of ridicule would be fun to experience.

At least he was in a great mood, which also served to distract him; on the way to the ADA’s office, Sonny had gotten a call from his sister Bella, who had told him she was pregnant. He was about to become an uncle for the first time. In his excitement, Sonny even bought some cannoli for the squad, before he remembered that pastries and Manhattan SVU detectives apparently did not mix. Still, this was a special occasion.

He even thought of offering some to Barba, but figured that would be weird. So he left the cannoli with the ADA’s secretary, offering her one – because Sonny was nothing if not dedicated to keeping people well fed – and went inside to meet Barba. After a typical greeting, Sonny got right to business, and started walking the ADA through the facts of the case; a case involving a sleazy financial advisor who had date-raped a colleague and boasted about it to the rest of their office.

Oddly, Barba was quieter than usual, and he seemed to be looking at Sonny a little too closely, like he was trying to determine something. He was also less sarcastic, perhaps because making fun of Sonny was only entertaining if there was an audience to witness it. Thank God for small favors.

It was after Sonny was done that things got even odder. Barba just stared at him for a few seconds and said, “What, that’s it? No ideas? I don’t get to hear you telling me how to do my job? What happened to your always insightful legal opinions?” 

Sonny, wanting to avoid a dressing down on this special day, just exhaled and said, “No ideas counselor, it seems like you have everything under control.” 

Barba frowned. After a pause, during which he seemed to be assessing Sonny some more, he elaborated: “Detective, I’m sure you know I’ve always had things under control; that never seemed to stop you before. Come on, what are your thoughts? Don’t you want to know if you’re right?”

Sonny couldn’t resist replying with “I thought I was  _ seldom _ right”, nor could he resist the pout forming on his lips. 

Barba perked up a little at that – and did he glance at Sonny’s lips? – saying: “Well, don’t you want to know if today is one of those admittedly rare occasions?”

Sonny looked at the man; Barba was half-smiling. It was a little hard to process, and it made it even harder for Sonny to deny the crush he had long been harboring on the counselor. Could it be? Could Barba, on some – possibly sadistic – level, enjoy Sonny’s little interjections? Miss them, even?

Sonny, despite what he tried to tell himself, did still yearn for the counselor’s approval, so he decided to take him at his word and try to evaluate the case: “I think it’s a slam dunk. We can use his emails to prove he did it, they’re essentially a confession and they include all sorts of details only the perpetrator would know.”

Barba, for once not immediately mocking him, said: “But his lawyers are going to claim violation of his privacy, they’ll argue the emails are inadmissible.”

It was weird, but Sonny felt like Barba was playing professor, presenting a problem and helping Sonny figure it out. Truth be told, Sonny liked that a little too much. So he played along; “That won’t fly. The email account he used was corporate and the company policy is explicitly stated in his contract; it says that the company might potentially monitor emails stored on company-owned computers, like his emails were. So there’s no privacy argument to be made. All messages are admissible.” Barba nodded, but didn’t seem wholly satisfied. And never let it be said that Sonny ever left anyone less than wholly satisfied.

Sonny thought about it for a few more seconds and realized there was another way to get around the privacy issue that would be even harder to contest; “OK, so we get one of the suspect’s colleagues, one of the recipients of the emails, to disclose the contents. Since the messages contain evidence of a criminal act there’s no protection of confidentiality.”

Barba actually smiled this time and said “Very good.” And it didn’t sound sarcastic. Sonny couldn’t believe his ears; he didn’t even think Barba’s voice could sound anything but sarcastic, let alone approving. So Sonny smiled a little proud smile, until Barba apparently came to his senses: “OK Detective, don’t let it get to your head, this is basic stuff.” Now there was the sneer Sonny knew and loved. Except, did that sneer suddenly seem more fond?

Sonny couldn’t help himself; He got up, excused himself for a second, retrieved the pastry box from Barba’s secretary and promptly returned, holding the box open in front of the ADA.

Barba’s face was a picture; “Excuse me Detective, are you offering me  _ pastries _ ? Did you bring them with you on the off chance that I would be nice to you?” 

Sonny laughed and explained: “I got them for the squad, I’m celebrating because I just found out I’m about to become an uncle.”

That seemed to be sufficient explanation for Barba: “Oh. Congratulations, Carisi. I’m glad you’re not as crazy as I thought.” But, as Barba was reaching for the box, he paused and narrowed his eyes; “Wait a second, so you weren’t going to give  _ me _ one?” 

Sonny laughed even harder and cheekily said, “Nope. But you earned it.” 

Barba visibly tried to school his features into a scowl, grabbed a cannoli and said, “Get out of here, Detective.” 

Sonny kept smiling all the way back to the precinct.

~ ~ ~

After that little incident, it was like Sonny regained some of the pep in his step. Getting that little bit of praise went a long way in terms of rebuilding his confidence and, yeah, he knew that was sad too. But it wasn’t just the praise. Sonny was irrationally happy because Barba, the object of his ill-advised affection, didn’t hate him after all.

Sonny had always thought that he counselor found him insufferable when, in fact, Barba was actually the only person who had noticed the shift in Sonny’s attitude. And he had even bothered to talk about it. Or, well, to joke about it. That was something. Still, despite his improved mood, Sonny was sticking to his decision to leave, since the situation at the precinct hadn’t improved at all.

The rest of the squad, the people he interacted with daily, apparently hadn’t even noticed anything was off with him. Rollins continued the hot-and-cold treatment; half the time she acted like they were brother and sister and the other half she was questioning his place on the squad. Amaro still hadn’t warmed up to him, and still seemed to be directing some of his pent up aggression toward Sonny; Fin now acted like Sonny didn’t exist, and the Sarge clearly still saw him as the newbie.

Sonny wasn’t totally discouraged, not yet. But he didn’t think he could go on like that for the next, what, several years? There would be no point. So he still kept his distance from the rest of the squad, even getting in the habit of turning down their rare invitations for drinks, celebratory or otherwise. Nobody ever seemed to press the issue, so Sonny figured it was no big deal if he didn’t tag along.

His determination, however, was tested after a particularly grueling case which had thankfully ended well. Sergeant Benson had offered to take out the entire team, drinks on her. The thought she was only inviting him out of politeness did cross Sonny’s mind; it wasn’t like Benson could say ‘everyone but Carisi is invited!’, after all.

OK, so Sonny was sulking. The squad had gotten so close to botching the case, and Sonny had pointed out some incongruities from the start. But, of course, no one listened to him until his warnings came true, at which point everybody acted like the case had taken a totally unpredictable turn.

He wasn’t expecting a pat on the back, he was over that. Mostly. But having his observations constantly ignored was getting too much. So Sonny simply said that he couldn’t go out with the others because he had to study. Rollins, perhaps feeling guilty that she had dismissed his theories earlier, actually tried to get him to come out for once, saying “Come on Carisi, since when do you turn down free drinks?”, all southern charm and friendliness, but even that didn’t change his mind.

It was in that moment that Barba walked in the precinct. He seemed to be in an uncharacteristically good mood, most likely because of the positive outcome of a touch-and-go case. He immediately said, “Did I hear something about free drinks?” and just about made a U-turn when he saw the others already wearing their coats and preparing to leave, beckoning him along. Sonny instantly regretted turning down that invitation; if he’d known Barba would be there, he’d ignore his bad mood and just go, in a pathetic effort to spend a little more time with the ADA. 

But maybe Sonny wasn’t totally out of luck; Barba looked at him, still sitting at his desk, in a shirt and vest, sleeves rolled up, not even his jacket on, and seemed to pause. Sonny half-smiled, half-winced at him, and said, “I can’t make it, I still have homework to do.” That got Barba to raise an eyebrow, thinking that Sonny was, perhaps, spitefully throwing his words back at him, but Sonny’s involuntary dopey smile clearly showed he was joking. 

Just then Benson said, “Rafael, are you coming?” and Barba, for some reason, pulled out his phone and said, “Yes Liv, I’ll just be a minute.” As Benson took off, Sonny cracked one of his textbooks open and tried really hard to focus on anything but the man in front of him.

That worked for about fifteen seconds. Barba put his phone back in his pocket without even glancing at it and took a few steps closer. Just as Sonny was about to ask him why he hadn’t left yet, Barba came around and casually sat on the edge of his desk. Which, frankly, Sonny found to be a little too close for comfort. So he sat back and, just as casually – or, well, not very casually at all – asked: “Can I help you counselor?”

Barba lifted Sonny’s textbook enough to read the title and, like they were engaged in normal conversation instead of staring at each other awkwardly, said, “I see you’re very close to graduation.” 

Sonny was surprised Barba had, for once, commented on ‘night school’ without being sarcastic. So he answered, “Yeah, I only have two exams and my final paper left”, to which Barba mischievously – and weirdly – replied “So I’m sure a night out wouldn’t hurt.” 

Before Sonny even knew what hit him, Barba closed his textbook, took him by the forearm and gently – gently? – tried to get him up, saying: “Come on Carisi, today was a good day. You deserve to celebrate it too.”

Sonny got up and put his jacket on in a zombie-like state, too stunned by the actual, physical, skin-on-skin contact that Barba himself had initiated. He almost didn’t see Barba holding up his coat, which, no. Sonny grabbed the coat and put it on himself. He refused to overthink anything. He was just going to go out with his colleagues, relax and drink. Hopefully not too much.

He and Barba walked out of the precinct together, and damn if that simple, innocuous thing didn’t give Sonny butterflies. Barba seemed to be glancing at him every few minutes, but neither man said a word. The bar was only a couple blocks away and Sonny found himself wishing the walk was longer. Even in silence, Barba’s form next to his was enough to give Sonny that strange feeling of being on the cusp of something. Barba pointed out the bar and Sonny took advantage of his enormous stride by skipping ahead and holding the door open for him. He could swear he saw a smirk on Barba’s face.

The rest of the squad was clearly surprised to see Sonny there, to which Barba said, “Sorry I’m late. I had to convince Detective Carisi here that he had to come out and celebrate; if not closing this case, then the fact he hasn’t said anything offensive in about 3 weeks.” 

Everyone laughed and went back to their alcohol-fueled conversations. Sonny had to admit he felt much more in his element after hearing Barba’s usual taunts, even if it stung a little that the ADA only seemed to be nice to him in private. It was better than nothing.

~ ~ ~

As the evening wore on, the squad split into groups. Sonny was sitting next to Rollins, the two of them animatedly talking sports as Amaro looked on and made the occasional joke, while Barba seemed deep in conversation with Benson and Fin. If Barba was looking, Sonny didn’t notice. After a long time, Sonny was feeling better, like he wasn’t a total fifth wheel. He knew the alcohol was likely the reason; Sonny had the tendency to get calmer and more laid back when he drank. But still, he’d count the night as a win, and it wasn’t even over yet. Not for him, at least.

It was Benson who stood up first, saying she had to go home to her son, and Fin immediately followed, offering to walk her. Right then, Sonny picked up on a couple of pointed looks exchanged between Amaro and Rollins; they really had no idea how obvious they were being.

So Sonny just got up and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get another drink at the bar. Goodnight.” He didn’t even bother to react when they pretended to leave separately. Sonny also didn’t react to Barba, who was now left sitting alone at the other table, tie loose, jacket off, watching him. He couldn’t afford to react to that.

Barba, as always, was a little more daring. He approached Sonny at the bar and stood next to him, over an empty stool. Sonny, bolstered by the alcohol, tried to pull back the stool so that Barba could sit with him. The counselor, however, waved his hand and adorably –adorably? – said: “Don’t bother, I can never sit on those things when I’ve had a few, I lack the coordination.”

Sonny couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him: “Well feel free to stand, counselor.”

Barba didn’t dignify that with a response, instead choosing to take hold of Sonny’s forearm again, so he could get him up and guide him to a corner booth. Sonny went along, feeling warmer all of a sudden. He sat down but Barba kept standing, obviously expecting him to scoot a little more, which Sonny obediently did.

Barba then sat next to him, right next to him, their thighs almost touching, close enough for Sonny to smell – OK, Sonny was being weird now. And he was projecting. There was no reason to assume this was anything other than friendly. Sure, Barba was being a little touchy-feely, but most people got that way after a few drinks. So Sonny took a deep breath – which was kind of a mistake because, damn, Barba smelled good – and forced himself to relax.

Barba was still nursing a beer, as was Sonny. They both sat silently for a little while, until Barba leaned even closer to Sonny and spoke; “So, Detective, I notice you don’t come to these outings as much anymore.”

Sonny briefly wondered if that was a roundabout way of Barba saying ‘come here often?’ but dismissed it. He didn’t quite know how to act; why was Barba asking that? Was he flirting? That was some strong body language, but then Barba was a pretty intense guy in general. More importantly, was Sonny supposed to flirt back? He decided to play it safe for the time being: “Well, school keeps me pretty busy. When you guys are out drinking I’m usually at home, prepping for moot court.”

Barba looked at him and suddenly turned serious; “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Now, I’ve never been your biggest fan, Carisi, but you’re a promising detective. And yet lately you appear less present, less focused. Are your studies distracting you? Are you reconsidering your career? You seem to be isolating yourself from the rest of the squad.”

Sonny was flabbergasted. He had no idea that his little quandary was even on Barba’s radar. Sure, the conversation they’d had in the ADA’s office about a month earlier had shown that the counselor was very perceptive. But Sonny just thought that the counselor had noticed the stark absence of his random legal comments, not that Barba had actually bothered to contemplate Sonny’s career.

Still, that explained the corner booth; Barba wanted some privacy so he could check up on a colleague who seemed to be in a jam. As he said, he wasn’t Sonny’s biggest fan – which, ouch – but he still wanted to help him out. So what if the night was a bust on the romantic front? Sonny could always use a friend.

After a few seconds, Sonny sat up, feeling Barba’s eyes on him, and started talking: “I appreciate that you’re taking the time to do this, counselor. I guess it’s true, I have been distancing myself, kind of, but I’m not really considering a career change. I’m a cop.”

Barba quickly interrupted him: “Are you sure? Because, the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve been offering legal advice.  _ To me _ . Always trying to figure out what charges need to be filed, which crimes have been committed. It seems that you might, in fact, prefer that aspect of the job. Is that it? Do you want to become a lawyer? Or a  _ prosecutor _ ?” 

This time it was Sonny who interrupted as Barba seemed hilariously offended by the very notion of him and Sonny doing the same job; “No, no, hear me out. I do enjoy working out the legal details of a case, and I do like telling you how to do your job” – and there was that eye-roll Sonny liked so much – “but I’m a cop. And I’ll keep being a cop for the foreseeable future. I have a lot on my plate with school right now but I’ll be done soon. Then I guess I can focus on the job completely.”

Barba, even in his semi-intoxicated stage, didn’t seem to fully buy that. He started on another angle: “OK, so you’re not looking to change careers. Which is good for your would-be clients” – at which Sonny scoffed like he used to, in the good old days – “but there has to be something else. It’s not just nights out. It’s on the job, too. You’ve been quieter. Which, considering how loud you were, is not necessarily a bad thing, but still. You barely seem to speak anymore.”

Sonny sighed and wondered if he should confide in Barba. The buzz from the alcohol, not to mention the warmth in the counselor’s eyes – the alcohol in his case too, no doubt – made him open up: “Look, I don’t mean to mope, but you said it yourself. You’re not my biggest fan. And neither is anybody else. That can get to a guy, you know? So what if I miss a night out, or three? Nobody’s gonna miss me. And what if I keep my comments to myself when we’re working a case? I still do my part, I contribute when I have something solid, and my instincts are still good. I just stopped trying to get you guys to like me.” Whoa. That had just flown out of Sonny’s mouth. It was that damn beer.

Barba was gaping at him. With something which resembled affection but was probably pity. He even tried to deny it, saying “Come on Carisi, I’m sure…” but Sonny interrupted him again: “Look, it’s fine, I get it, I’m a loudmouth and I come off too strong and I’m green and I’m not Manhattan SVU material. You don’t have to like me, it is what it is and I’ve accepted it.”

Barba actually seemed to deny that a little more convincingly: “Listen Detective, you may not think you’re  _ Manhattan SVU material _ ” – and a semi-drunk Barba using air quotes was just priceless, by the way – “but you are good at your job. You were right about this case, weren’t you? You pointed out the issues from the start; the others may be more experienced but you do have good instincts and you also have legal knowledge that allows you to look at a case from a different angle.” 

Sonny stared. This was surreal. First of all, since when did Barba have such a high opinion of him? And, secondly, when had the potential – OK, imaginary – flirtation between them turned into a pep talk? And was that sad? Or nice? Sonny couldn’t tell anymore.

All Sonny could do was try to lighten the mood. Smiling, he said, “Aw, counselor, I didn’t know you cared!” Barba narrowed his eyes, which didn’t stop Sonny: “I mean, with the way you constantly mock me and all, you can’t blame me for thinking you hated my guts.” 

For some reason, that last part was what Barba denied with the most fervor: “I don’t hate you Carisi! If I did, I wouldn’t bother. You’re kind of fun to mess with.”

Sonny’s smile turned into a grin as he watched Barba smirk into his beer. Sonny had to ask: “So it’s OK if I keep trying to impress you?”

Barba shot him a sideways glance and oh-so-casually inquired: “Is that what you’ve been trying to do?”

Sonny actually blushed, to his mortification. Barba either didn’t see it or he let him off the hook: “Yes, you can keep trying. One of these days you may even succeed. Though I highly doubt it.” Sonny chuckled, relieved the tension had been broken once again.

After a few moments of silence, Barba looked at his watch. Sonny sat up straighter and said, “It’s getting late, huh? I should get going.” as he reached for his jacket. 

Barba touched his forearm once more and his expression turned serious: “I just want to make this clear. You have potential. Obviously there’s a lot of room for improvement, but you can’t improve on your own. You shouldn’t isolate yourself. In your line of work, team work is important. You can’t forget that.”

Sonny, a little too affected by Barba’s hand still on him, could only say, “I want to be a part of the team, I want to try harder, but what if I’m just on the wrong team?” Complete with a pout. Dammit.

Barba made that affection-mixed-with-pity face again and said, “Well, I don’t know that it’s humanly possible for you to try any  _ harder _ ”, which, yeah. 

Upon seeing Sonny’s frustration, Barba shook his head and seemed to change tactics, sternly saying: “OK, so you’re not going to become best friends with the other detectives. This isn’t high school Carisi, you’re not here to exchange friendship bracelets. You’re a cop. You have a good job at a great unit and you’re talking yourself out of it. You’re overreacting and you need to stop.”

Sonny deflated even more at that; not at Barba’s harsh tone – which, to his dismay, he found kind of attractive – but because it was pretty much true. “Yeah, I know. I mean, it’s not even that bad. They don’t always insult me, most of the time they tolerate me just fine. But I’m not that bad either, and I think I deserve better than to just be tolerated.”

That seemed to soften up Barba again but, before he could say anything, Sonny abruptly stood up: “I’m sorry counselor; I don’t mean to keep unloading this on you.”

Barba looked up at him and said: “Then don’t. You’re having a tough time? Suck it up.” That particular bit of phrasing stopped Sonny in his tracks; Barba probably only pretended he didn’t notice and carried on: “Suck it up and quit complaining already. I can guarantee you that things are not as bad as you think. You’re doing a good job. But… you’re not entirely wrong. It’s not fun to simply be tolerated. I know that feeling.”

Sonny nodded, irrationally pleased that Barba had volunteered something personal, even if it was just that one phrase.

Barba slowly got up as well and said “If I were you, Carisi, I wouldn’t discount Manhattan SVU just yet. I think there’s room for you here.” Sonny doubted it, but he was buoyed by Barba’s encouragement all the same.

The two men put on their coats and Barba lightly patted him on the back, saying “Goodnight, Detective.” Sonny watched him leave, still feeling the counselor’s touch down to his bones.

~ ~ ~

The next morning Sonny was feeling a little embarrassed by his display of moping the night before. But he was also feeling a little more optimistic, a little more confident; even if his Barba-related fantasies seemed destined to remain just that, Sonny had, in fact, gotten advice, not to mention a seal of approval, from one of the best ADAs in the state of New York. If Barba thought that Sonny could make it at Manhattan SVU, who was he to argue?

So Sonny hesitantly started to reconsider his transfer. Plus, he figured that transfer-related stress wouldn’t help him with his last few classes at Fordham Law, so he decided to stop worrying and focus on getting his degree. He also decided to suck it up, like Barba had suggested; to ignore the comments and the jokes and just keep doing his job without protest.

Lastly, Sonny decided to stop keeping to himself so much. He’d had enough of being quiet and, frankly, it was against his nature. He knew that could possibly work against him, but he also knew that he should heed Barba’s warning; isolating himself would only prevent him from ever fitting in.

So, at first, Sonny tried out a few milder comments, harmless stuff he’d been keeping in for a while. He got some looks by Amaro and Fin, plus a remark by Rollins – “Oh look, it’s the old Carisi again! And you were doing so well.” – but nothing he wasn’t already used to. More significantly, Sonny was rapidly realizing that some of his comments really were better kept to himself. It wasn’t self-censoring, it was tactfulness. Thoughtfulness that was necessary in their line of work.

Sonny knew he still had a lot to learn and, sometime in the previous couple of months, it had become clear that some of the reactions he used to get were justified. He definitely needed to be more careful. But he didn’t have to be so careful that he barely ever spoke up; it was all about fine-tuning. After all, if Sonny wanted to be a part of the team, he’d have to achieve that as himself, not as some pretend version of him. He truly did need to bring some of the old Carisi back. Though he did draw the line at growing back his moustache; that part of him was better left in the past.

As the weeks went by, Sonny started feeling more and more at ease. Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact he was one measly - or, well, not so measly – paper away from finishing his degree. He still wouldn’t tag along for drinks, but this time it was because he genuinely did need to study. When he managed to hand in in his final paper, he realized that having that load off his back made a world of difference. For all he knew, his school-related stress had exacerbated his sulking. Maybe.

But there was another thing that was helping Sonny feel even better; since their talk, Barba had gotten in the habit of paying him special attention, in small but meaningful – at least to Sonny – ways. Every time they’d meet there would be a nod, a smirk, an offhand comment. Little things which were obvious to Sonny, but also subtle enough to go mostly unnoticed by the others. Well, except that one time Barba had said, in front of Benson no less, “You’re right, Carisi.” Sonny had been left dumbstruck. And the second time it had happened? In front of Rollins? Wow. That had felt good.

Now, Sonny wasn’t delusional. He didn’t think there was any hidden meaning in Barba’s behavior; that was just wishful thinking. Sonny realized it was a display of camaraderie, of support, but somehow that made him appreciate it even more.

~ ~ ~

It was a few weeks later when Sonny found out that the grade for his final paper had been posted and that he had officially completed law school. Unfortunately, he had neither the presence of mind nor the time to celebrate. The precinct was in turmoil. The team had just wrapped a case that had seemed messy from the start; Amaro had used questionable means to get a confession which, nonetheless, had saved the life of a young girl. Sonny was arguing that the confession would likely get thrown out, and Fin actually seemed to be siding with him for once, while an agitated Amaro was saying that it had been worth it because it had saved a life. Frankly, Sonny agreed with that, except he’d rather put the perpetrator behind bars too.

In the middle of that argument – which had gotten a little too loud – Barba walked in the precinct. Sonny didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in in trying to reason with Amaro: “Look Nick, I think you did the right thing. But if we’re gonna nail this guy, we need to figure out a way to use other evidence. His confession isn’t going to cut it.”

Rollins, who was also pretty tense, dismissively said, “OK Carisi, just because you took a few classes doesn’t mean you get to lecture us. The confession is good.” 

Right as Sonny was about to snap that he actually had a law degree now, thank you very much, Barba intervened; “Actually, Rollins, the confession is not good. It will never hold up in court. And we don’t want the interrogation techniques of this precinct under further scrutiny, either. So I suggest that you listen to Carisi – yes, shocking, I know – and get creative. We need a different way to pin this on the suspect.”

Benson, who had come out to ease the tension before Barba beat her to it, said: “OK people, you heard him. What else do we have? Act like the confession never happened. Let’s figure this out.”

Sonny was too busy trying to ignore the daggers Rollins and Amaro were staring at him to really enjoy the fact that Barba had essentially defended his honor. Or, OK, that Barba had taken his side in an argument. So he pulled up the case file and started combing through it. Barba walked behind his desk and only said “Detective…” in a low voice, as a greeting. That was it. He didn’t even look at him directly – and neither did Sonny, for that matter.

Still, Sonny’s reaction to that low growl was a little pathetic. The case they were working on had been very time-consuming, and that meant that Sonny hadn’t spent any significant amount of time with Barba for about a week. This, apparently, was enough time for Sonny to start missing the counselor. To start missing Barba’s face, even his voice. Which, yeah.

Fortunately for Sonny’s concentration, Barba left soon after, telling Benson to call if they came up with anything. Ultimately, it was Amaro himself who pointed out a potential witness; a neighbor who had only given a preliminary statement to a patrol cop but had not spoken to any detectives.

Benson sent Carisi along with Amaro to get a full statement, with a warning: “Guys, play nice. And, Carisi, make sure the questions are specific but not leading. We already have the information; we just need to hear it from this witness too.” Sonny had to stop himself from preening at the fact Benson seemed to acknowledge his legal expertise, which, again, sad.

The excursion was a success; with some prodding by Sonny’s careful questions, the witness gave them all the material they needed and, on the strength of his statement – as conveyed to Benson – Barba was able to swiftly negotiate a very unfavorable plea for the defendant.

Even better, Amaro had visibly calmed down once he realized the suspect would not be getting away with it, which gave Sonny an opportunity to clear the air on the ride back; “I never said you were wrong Nick, and you saved that girl’s life. But we also needed to put the guy away for good. I was trying to help; I wasn’t questioning your actions.”

Amaro gruffly said “Don’t worry about it,” but he did seem a lot less irritated with Sonny, if not apologetic. In his own way.

When they returned to the precinct, just as Benson told them to get the witness statement and their notes to Barba as soon as possible, Amaro said, “New guy, that’s on you.” Except, this time, it actually seemed like there was some humor in his voice. Which was original. 

To play along, Sonny frowned and grumbled, “Come on man, still?” which, in turn, elicited a smirk from Amaro as he walked away. This was progress. 

And it didn’t end there; Rollins approached Sonny and said, “You want me to drop off those files?” It was clear this was her way of apologizing without actually apologizing. Like a sister, indeed.

Sonny smiled at her and said “Nah, it’s OK. But thanks.” before she nodded and went back to her desk.

Now this, Sonny could get used to. He didn’t mind the tension, he didn’t mind raised voices; not as long the squad was able to set things right at the end of the day. That’s what being on a team was all about. It was strange – especially after such a rough day – but, for the first time in a long while, Sonny felt like things might turn out OK.

~ ~ ~

This noticeably happier version of Sonny had to try  _ very _ hard to fake annoyance at having to play errand boy, since he was about to go see Barba again, one on one. So, after he made sure he had all the necessary files, even taking the time to copy and restructure his notes into something more cohesive, Sonny headed out. He was tired but happy, after the long but ultimately good day he’d had. He was also nervous, because he wanted to thank Barba for what he had said earlier, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to start another heart-to-heart while both men were fully sober. 

Still, Sonny had to keep reminding himself that Barba was showing him professional courtesy; it made sense that the counselor looked at Sonny differently, because he was also kind of a lawyer; kind of a lawyer, that was a thing, right? It didn’t mean anything more. This was just an unrequited crush. Sonny had had quite a few of those in his time. Nothing new.

So, Sonny collected himself and approached Barba’s office. He noticed the ADA’s secretary was gone and he realized that it had gotten pretty late, but he didn’t let himself dwell on that and simply knocked on Barba’s door.

Barba distractedly beckoned him in, nose-deep in some documents, but sharply looked up when he heard Sonny’s unmistakable brogue: “Evening, counselor.”

“Good evening to you too, detective”, the ADA replied, and glanced at his watch. “I see they still have you doing the grunt work. It’s almost midnight.”

Sonny smiled and said, “I don’t mind”, to which Barba may or may not have smirked. Sonny dropped off all the documents and his notes and, after a few seconds of hesitation, said, “Um, I just wanted to thank you for earlier. For sticking up for me. You didn’t have to.” 

Barba looked at him and matter-of-factly said, “I did have to. You were right. I would have said the same thing if you hadn’t. I’m sure Benson would have as well”. 

Sonny insisted: “Yeah but that’s the thing, you would have said it. Or the Sarge would have. There was no need for me to say it. It wasn’t my place but apparently I couldn’t help myself.”

Barba considered that for a second; “Normally that type of comment does come from the mean ADA or the tough boss, and that means the detectives usually keep their comments to themselves. This time, because it was you, the others were… more outspoken. But situations like this always start arguments. You shouldn’t read anything into it.”

Sonny figured this was a good time to show Barba that he had been following his advice; “Nah, it’s all good. We actually smoothed things out. Apologies and all. Kind of. And, I gotta say, you telling everybody I was right played a big part. I mean, I‘m always saying I’m right but they  _ have _ to listen to you.” Barba raised an eyebrow, probably surprised that Sonny was so nonchalant, which prompted him further: “See, you were right. I had been moping for too long, and I did need a good kick in the ass.” 

Barba didn’t let that drop: “Well, Carisi, some would say that is my specialty.” There it was again. Zero to blushing in half a second. Dammit.

Sonny soldiered on: “No but seriously, I took your advice, from the other night. I stopped keeping my thoughts to myself. Like today; I spoke up when I disagreed, I didn’t back down, and then I explained myself to Amaro. And I still managed to get through a tough case like this unscathed. Maybe I even gained a little respect. That’s a win in my book.”

Barba seemed pretty genuine when he said, “I’m happy for you, Detective.” 

Sonny was on a roll, so he went for it: “Come on counselor, you singlehandedly saved my job and you still can’t call me Sonny?”

Barba looked at him for a few seconds too long, but Sonny didn’t lose his smile. So Barba said, “Well,  _ Sonny _ , despite your substantial whining, I don’t think your job was ever at risk, but still. Oh and you can keep calling me counselor.” Sonny was too giddy at hearing his name coming from Barba’s lips to respond to that. 

Just then, the counselor’s phone buzzed. Sonny got up to excuse himself, but Barba waved him back down as he read a text. A few seconds later Sonny’s phone buzzed too and Barba said: “It looks like the squad is going out on a school night again and, what do you know, you’re invited too! Come on  _ Sonny _ , let’s get going. We need to celebrate the new you.” 

Sonny was internally flipping out because Barba had said his name twice now – and, wow, was he thirteen years old again? – but after their nice conversation he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Truth be told, Sonny also didn’t think he could restrain himself if, at the end of the evening, he and Barba found themselves tipsy and sharing a beer in some dark corner of the bar. He was about to give up the chance to spend more time with the counselor, yes, but that was a sacrifice worth making if it meant their friendship would survive the night intact – ‘intact’ meaning ‘without Sonny planting a kiss on Barba’s face’.

So, as Barba looked on expectantly, a semi-fond, semi-amused look on his face – or in Sonny’s imagination, he really didn’t know –, Sonny said, “You go on ahead, counselor. I have to eat something, I haven’t had anything all day and I’m going to need something other than bar nachos to sustain me.” 

Barba, who had momentarily seemed disappointed – which, again, was quite possibly imaginary – simply said, “Well, how about Italian?” 

Sonny froze. Surely Barba wasn’t suggesting that they have dinner together? He was probably suggesting a type of cuisine to Sonny, right? Like, ‘you should order some Italian when you get home.’ That made sense… except not really.

Sonny was now facing a dilemma; he didn’t want to embarrass himself by assuming that had been an invitation, but he also didn’t want to foolishly decline, in case it really was an offer. Plus, turning down an invite to a group outing was one thing, but he wouldn’t dream of turning down a one-on-one invitation from Barba.

Sonny decided to put his legal skills to the test and tried to craft a response that aimed for total ambiguity: “That  _ does _ sound great; I could go for some pasta.” 

Barba got up, grabbed his coat and said, “Follow me; I know a great place that stays open late.”

Sonny tried to keep his eyes from bulging, and he also tried to get his feet to move. Neither was easy.

~ ~ ~

Sonny used the time it took them to get to the restaurant, which was a short cab ride away, to calm down. So what if they were going to dinner? It was casual. Friendly. No reason to panic or, even worse, to hope. Sonny always was prone to overreaction.

Now, it had occurred to Sonny that he was possibly in denial, and that Barba might actually be interested in him, but that just seemed too good to be true. What would Barba even see in Sonny? Being a sort-of-mentor to an uncouth detective was one thing; dating him was a whole different story.

In reality, Barba probably wanted to unwind too, since they’d all had a long day, and he probably thought a loud cop bar was not the best place for that. He was probably going to go to dinner anyway, and he probably figured Sonny’s company was better than nothing. Probably. Sonny would find out soon enough but, until then, he’d keep things friendly just to be safe.

As they got to the restaurant, this time it was Barba who held the door open for Sonny. Sonny refused to read anything into that. The hostess seemed to know Barba, and they were almost immediately seated at a nice table for two, where a waiter soon took their orders.

As they waited, Sonny decided that he had to ask, if only to ease his mind: “Counselor, I realize it’s a little late to question this, but are you sure you don’t want to go meet up with the others?”

Barba clearly heard but chose to ignore the unspoken ‘instead of hanging out with me’ and simply said, “I’m sure they can live without us.” 

Sonny, trying not to react to the word ‘us’, said, “Well, they can definitely live without me. You, I’m not so sure.” There, a nice but friendly compliment. Sonny was nailing it. 

Barba actually shrugged and deadpanned, “True”, which tickled Sonny. But Barba continued; “Actually, now that you ask, why does it seem like most of your social interactions involve me?”

That sure brought Sonny down fast. Still, he decided to be honest and, with his patented half-smile, half-wince, he said, “Because you’re the only one who bothers?” 

Thankfully Barba answered with a joke: “So I’m your last resort? That’s flattering.”

That  _ was  _ a joke, right? Or, like, unintentional flirting? Sonny tried his luck and responded in kind: “No way counselor. If I had to pick, you’d definitely be number one on my list.” 

There it was again. Barba’s smirk. Poor Sonny didn’t stand a chance.

Their food arrived shortly after and they dug in, both genuinely starving. After they were done, and as they were still finishing their bottle of wine, Barba started up the conversation again: “So, Sonny, you said life at the precinct has gotten better” – to which Sonny immediately responded “Yeah, thanks to you!” – “but what about life outside the precinct? How have you been?”

Sonny was starting to feel like he really was on a date, which made him nervous, especially since this was the first time Barba had ever asked him about anything personal; fortunately he had something to talk about that was pretty safe: “Um, well, there has been a pretty huge development; I finally finished my degree, I passed all my exams and the grade for my final paper was just posted the other day and I’m done! I mean, I’ll probably have to miss graduation because of work and it’s not like I’m gonna practice law anytime soon, I’d have to pass the bar for that and it’s a very difficult exam and I’m not even sure I want t–” 

Barba thankfully interrupted his rambling: “Wait, wait, wait. You’re done? You finished law school?”

Sonny finally took a breath, grinned and said, “Yep!” 

Barba raised both his eyebrow and his glass and said, “That’s quite an achievement, Sonny. You should be proud. Congratulations.” Sonny raised his glass too and they both had a sip.

As Barba put his glass down, he said: “This calls for a celebration!” to which Sonny deadpanned: “And I imagine by ‘this’ you mean the fact I won’t be practicing law anytime soon.”

Barba let out a surprised chuckle and said, “Wow, I didn’t think you could be funny intentionally.”

Sonny kept up: “Well, I didn’t think you could be nice intentionally.”

Barba narrowed his eyes but went back to his original comment: “Seriously Sonny, I assume you’ve already celebrated with your classmates but maybe you’d like to go to the bar with the others and celebrate more traditionally? I’m sure they’re still there.”

Sonny felt a strange compulsion to emphasize his desire to be there, alone with Barba: “Nah, this is good, I’m good.” Barba seemed to smile knowingly into his wine glass, which kind of scared Sonny. Still, he continued, “And, actually, I was too busy with this case to celebrate. I even missed what I’m told was a pretty great party. Plus, uh, I haven’t really told the rest of the squad yet. Somehow I don’t think a law degree would make them appreciate my comments more.” 

Barba, unfortunately for Sonny, picked up on the subtext: “So I’m the first one you’ve told?” There it was. Busted. Barba was looking at him, right at him, and Sonny was blushing yet again. He knew it was too much to hope that Barba hadn’t noticed, but he chose not to worry about it too much. This was the New Sonny, after all; the night was going well and he didn’t want it to end.

Barba seemed to take pity on Sonny and changed the subject: “You know, I can guess why you became a cop; you have surprisingly solid instincts and you want to help people, yadda yadda. And I can definitely guess why you don’t necessarily want to practice law. Which, good call, by the way. What I can’t figure out is why you decided to get a law degree.”

That was a nice and safe topic. Less safe was the fact Barba had seemingly decided to loosen his tie and to lean in, more than halfway over their tiny table, getting a lot closer to Sonny. Sonny, who was getting flustered and surreptitiously trying to breathe through his nose.

After gathering his thoughts with some difficulty, Sonny replied, “It might seem weird but I didn’t have an extra reason for going to law school. I didn’t want to become a lawyer or even a prosecutor, not originally. I just wanted to learn about the law, since I was supposed to uphold it, you know? I thought it would give me more leverage so I could help people more effectively. 

“And I also wanted to figure out ways around it; to learn how to use the law to my advantage, to trick or to scare suspects. It was all about being a better detective. I didn’t even plan on going to law school, not at first. I just took some classes and a few seminars. But it was pretty fascinating stuff, so I stuck with it.”

Barba seemed impressed; “Good for you, Sonny. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to combine night school with your job.” Sonny rolled his eyes at ‘night school’, but Barba clarified: “By the way, I hope you never felt offended by my, uh, disparaging comments about your alma mater, that wasn’t my intention. Just a little academic rivalry. Fordham Law may not be Harvard Law but it’s a very reputable school. You did good.”

If Sonny were a cat, he’d be purring. And possibly rubbing his face all over Barba’s face. Wait. Now Sonny even blushed all by himself. A  _ new _ new low. He took a sip of wine to stall. The truth was that Sonny didn’t even need the wine; seeing Barba being so nice to him, up close and personal no less, already had him light-headed.

Encouraged by the wine, not to mention the compliment, Sonny decided to push his luck and try to find out a little more about Barba; “So, counselor, I told you about me. What was it like when  _ you _ first graduated? Harvard, no less? Did you celebrate?” 

Barba, to Sonny’s relief, seemed to open up a little: “Yes,  _ Sonny _ . I did celebrate. And not just by having dinner,” – and, wow, busted again – “I actually took a two-week trip to Cuba with some of the guys from my graduating class. It was… It felt like coming home, in a way, but it was also very far removed from my reality at the time. Still; it was right after grad school and right before I officially started my career. That was pretty much the last time I was ever carefree.” 

Sonny couldn’t help a smile; “So what did you do? Did you party? Did you get drunk? Did you dance?”

Barba flat-out laughed and said, “That’s a story for another evening.” 

Sonny was happy to let that go, but he still wanted to know more; “OK, so, after you came back, what happened? I bet you had your whole career planned out.”

Barba took a deep breath: “Well, yes. I knew I didn’t want to be a defense attorney. I knew I wanted to help people who were hurt. And I knew I wanted to make something of myself. I wanted my family to be proud, and I wanted to prove I was up for the task. Getting into Harvard was hard enough, graduating wasn’t easy, but the hardest part was after that. A Harvard law degree pries doors open, but then you have to keep those doors from closing on your face, especially if you’re from a poor Cuban family.”

Sonny was listening intently. He prodded Barba further: “So you became a prosecutor?”

Barba continued; “Yes. And I focused entirely too much on my conviction rate and my fashion sense and I isolated myself from my colleagues because I saw them as competition and I worked maybe too hard to get ahead.”

That was when it clicked for Sonny: “Is that why you talked to me that night? Why you were looking out for me? Because your old colleagues only ‘tolerated’ you too?”

Barba nodded lightly and said, “Yeah. Pretty much. I told you, I know what that’s like, and I also know that we often bring that isolation on ourselves. I guess I wanted to help you out. But, to be honest, there was another reason too.” 

Before Sonny could get his hopes up, Barba clarified: “Don’t think you’re the only one who’s ever had a hard time at Manhattan SVU. They can be pretty brutal to newcomers until you earn their approval. It took me a good six months until they stopped snapping at me and stage-whispering about my evilness while I was still in the room.”

Sonny couldn’t believe his ears: “You? They… What? Why?”

Barba laughed quietly: “Well, as I said, I focused entirely too much on getting convictions. I didn’t take on lost causes. Cops, as you know, don’t take too kindly to ADAs who refuse to prosecute because of technicalities”.

Sonny hummed and softly observed, “You’re not like that anymore.” 

Barba smiled; “No, I’m not. Working with this squad changed me, like I can see it’s changing you. I find myself… caring more. And I don’t like it.” 

That last part was delivered with an exaggerated sneer and Sonny laughed, mostly out of politeness, realizing Barba was joking because he probably felt awkward about opening up.

So Sonny tried to steer the conversation back to himself: “Well, if it took the squad six months to warm up to you, by my calculations they should accept me in about twelve years.”

This time it was Barba who laughed: “Fair enough, but you have to factor in that I have a mean streak and I always snapped back at them; you are like an overgrown puppy, eager for a treat, and I’m finding it hard to see how anyone could not like you.”

Sonny was now fully flushed. His entire body. He could feel it. Barba had said that he liked him. Right? But then, he had also likened him to a dog. Sonny decided to deflect: “You’d be surprised. Or not. I worked at five different precincts before I landed at Manhattan SVU. I worked homicide first, for a few years. I never exactly made a lot of friends.”

Barba nonchalantly said, “Did you have that ungodly moustache the whole time? Because, let me tell you, that would explain it.” 

Sonny actually choked on his wine.

Barba leaned forward, stretched his hand in what seemed to Sonny like slow motion, and patted his back, jokingly saying, “There, there.” 

Sonny was pretty sure pats on the back weren’t supposed to be lingering. Also, feeling Barba’s large hand on his back most certainly did  _ not _ help with the choking. Neither did the fact Barba didn’t pull his hand all the way back, instead leaving it on the table, right next to Sonny’s, their hands almost touching as they sat in the low lighting. 

Sonny was finding it harder and harder to deny that something was happening between him and Barba. His judgment was clouded by his own feelings, yes, but he’d be a fool to ignore the signs. Frankly, Sonny felt that he was maybe being a little too careful; Barba was making some moves, verbally but also physically, opening up, possibly trying to flirt.

Meanwhile, Sonny was either acting like he didn’t notice or, at best, he blushed and gawked at Barba like he had hung the moon. Neither tactic seemed promising. The night was almost over, and Sonny wanted to do something; to declare his own interest, however cautiously.

Interrupting Sonny’s thoughts, their waiter approached and asked if everything had been to their liking; which, of course, was a polite way of asking them to leave because it was almost closing time.

Barba reached for the bill, which gave Sonny an opening; he reached for Barba’s hand and covered it with his own, saying, “Why don’t you let me take care of it, counselor?” 

Barba slowly lifted his eyes from their connected hands and looked at Sonny, really looked; he then pulled his hand away deliberately, lightly grazing Sonny’s hand with his fingers. Sonny hadn’t been this turned on by hand touching since the ninth grade.

Barba almost-whispered, “I think it’s time you start calling me Rafael.” 

Sonny’s heart started beating awfully fast. So it hadn’t all been in his imagination. That was… amazing is what it was. Sonny couldn’t resist, he wanted to try out the name immediately, before Barba changed his mind: “Are you sure about that,  _ Rafael _ ?” 

Barba smirked at him and said, “Don’t make me regret it,  _ Sonny _ .” 

The waiter returned so that Sonny could pay, breaking the spell momentarily. Sonny and Barba stood up, straightened their ties and put on their coats without saying a word. They exited the restaurant and each took a step to opposite directions. That was it, then. The night had come to an end.

They turned back to face each other, doing that awkward shuffle people usually did on a first date, when they didn’t want it to end. Sonny subconsciously licked his lips, and Barba’s eyes were drawn to his mouth. They stared at each other; Sonny eager, face open, and Barba serious, with intent in his eyes. But neither man took a step.

Sonny was now past the point of denial, but he wondered if it was maybe too early for anything physical; he also wondered if Barba felt the same, hence the hesitation. They had time.

So Sonny smiled his little crinkly-eyed smile and said, “Well, Rafael, thanks for tonight. I had a great time. Maybe we could do this again?” There it was. Date talk. No misinterpreting that. 

Barba, who had cracked a smile as soon as he had heard Sonny use his name again, let out a soft chuckle and said, “Oh we will.” He then reached out, squeezed Sonny’s arm briefly but pointedly, and said, “Goodnight Sonny. Sleep tight.” 

Sonny could only utter a delayed “Goodnight!” to Barba’s disappearing form. How could that man make ‘sleep tight’ sound so suggestive? Sonny was going to have sweet dreams, that was for sure.

~ ~ ~

The next couple of days went by in a daze. Sonny was distracted. And, for the first time, it wasn’t because of his studies or because of his moping or even because of a case. Sonny simply found it impossible to stop thinking about Rafael – and, yeah, it was a little weird to suddenly be thinking of him as ‘Rafael’.

But it wasn’t just thoughts; Sonny was also considering actions, like calling or texting. He and Rafael only ever interacted in person, but Sonny didn’t want to wait for him to show up at the precinct for a case just so they could meet again. Not to mention, Sonny wanted to officially ask Rafael out on a date and he didn’t want to do it in front of the others.

Calling seemed like the better, more direct option, but it was also more nerve-wracking. Plus, both he and Rafael were very busy, and a few missed calls could make things awkward. So, two days after their dinner – and was there some sort of rule about that? Sonny was always terrible about these things – Sonny decided to text:

_‘ Rafael, how about Friday? Sonny’_

Simple and to the point. A few minutes later, his phone buzzed:

_‘ Thought you’d never ask. I’ll pick you up at 9.’ _

Sonny smiled so wide that even Rollins, sitting at her desk across from him, noticed. Or maybe she noticed his fist pump. Hard to say. “Hot date?” she teased, to which Sonny shrugged and replied “Maybe.” Rollins snorted as she went back to her paperwork. Life was good.

~ ~ ~

Sonny could have sworn that the week had skipped Thursday entirely. He and Rafael had made their little date on Wednesday morning, and it was now Friday, late afternoon. Fortunately the squad wasn’t working on a new case, so it looked like Sonny would probably be able to get home, shower and change with time to spare.

He was at his desk, trying to mentally pick an outfit – a suit? Jeans, maybe with a nice jacket? Where were they even going? He’d already texted Rafael his address, now he’d have to text him again to ask, would that seem weird? – when Benson called his name and interrupted his inner rambling: “Carisi, I’m going to need you to drop off some case files to the M.E.’s office.” 

Sonny must have made an involuntary ‘why me?’ face, because Benson then said, “Relax, Carisi. Just drop off the files and then you can go straight home.” That was better. And it beat having to sit at his desk and mentally go through his closet for the next hour and a half. Sonny grabbed the files and took off.

He was just leaving the medical examiner’s office when his phone rang. The display read ‘Rafael’, which, yeah. Sonny eagerly picked up; “Hello, Rafael. You do realize this is the first time we’re talking on the phone.” 

Rafael dramatically exhaled: “Oh God. You’re one of those. You’re going to be insufferably cute and adorable and all those annoying things.”

Sonny laughed but remained undeterred: “I’m glad you called. I wanted to ask you where we might be going, I need to figure out what to wear.”

Rafael let his silence speak.

Sonny laughed even harder and said, “OK, OK, I get it. Just don’t complain if you hate my tie.” 

Rafael did comment on that; “No tie. Wear something casual. Just be yourself.” Sonny was not about to let that saccharine comment drop, but Rafael hurriedly added: “I never said that!” Sonny chuckled and refrained from further remarks.

Rafael, somehow sounding both exasperated and fond, changed the topic; “Strange as it may seem, Sonny, I didn’t call you so we could coordinate outfits. I’m actually at the precinct, and I need your notes on that statutory case from last month. I’ll be doing some preliminary prepping over the weekend.”

Sonny couldn’t resist; he all-too-innocently asked, “Is  _ that _ what you’ll be doing over the weekend?”

Rafael paused for a couple of seconds and then spoke in a low, breathy whisper: “I see you’re way bolder over the phone. If only I’d known, we could have saved so much time.”

Sonny was now beetroot red. It was that voice. “Um, so. Yeah. The notes are in the bottom left drawer at my desk, they should be the first or second thing you see.” 

Rafael chuckled and said, “OK, Sonny. I’ll see you tonight.” to which Sonny sweetly replied, “I’m looking forward to it”. Rafael almost inaudibly said, “Me too.” and instantly hung up. Sonny was walking on air.

Before he knew it, Sonny was home. He decided to grab a very quick bite before getting ready; it was a little after 7 o’clock, and he figured he and Rafael would probably go to dinner, but he didn’t want to be on a totally empty stomach; he’d been anxious the entire day and he had skipped lunch.

So, after he made himself a sandwich, and after he made himself eat it – eating a sandwich had seriously never been this hard –, Sonny went in for a shower. He still hadn’t picked out an outfit, though he had settled on nice jeans at least, and he still needed to redo his hair, so he was cutting it a little close. But he wasn’t worried. Everything was going according to plan.

~ ~ ~

It was a little before 8 when Sonny got out of the shower and started going through his closet. It was about 5 minutes past 8 when his doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anybody else and it was way too early for it to be Rafael, so Sonny curiously went to check the intercom. He asked who it was – his apartment building was old, there was no video system – only to hear Rafael’s voice, sounding kind of agitated: “It’s me. Open the door.”

Sonny was shocked. Why was Rafael there a whole hour early? Without even calling first? And why did he sound so strange? And why hadn’t Sonny picked an outfit before his shower? He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt and his hair was a wet mess. This was not the way he wanted to greet Rafael for their date. The doorbell rang again, getting him out of his daze, and he buzzed Rafael in. He only had time to smooth down his hair a little, not that it helped, and then he was at the door.

Even if Sonny didn’t look his best, he had his best smile on for Rafael; not that the man noticed. Sonny didn’t know what hit him; Rafael barged through the door, flying past him, without even looking at him or saying a word. He was still clearly wearing one of his work suits – and that gorgeous deep red tie that Sonny loved – and was even carrying his briefcase.

Sonny was confused but also worried; he followed the counselor to the living room and said, “Rafael, are you OK? Did something happen?” Rafael’s eyes snapped up to meet his and Sonny saw a look on his face that he had never seen before. Anger. At first Sonny had thought something happened to Rafael, something work-related most likely, but that look left no doubt; Rafael’s anger was directed at him.

Sonny didn’t know what to say, and Rafael didn’t want to say anything, apparently content to just glare at him. Sonny tried again: “Can you tell me what happened?” There was no answer, except another glare by Rafael who suddenly started pacing the small room. Sonny was beginning to freak out. He stepped in front of Rafael, towering over him even barefoot, and grabbed him by the shoulders: “Rafael! What is going on?”

Rafael testily pulled himself out of Sonny’s grip – which hurt Sonny, because it looked like Rafael couldn’t even stand his touch and what could have possibly caused that? – but at least he stayed still, pacing no longer. Sonny didn’t dare reach for him again. He just waited.

Rafael exhaled deeply through his nose a few times, clearly trying to compose himself, and then took a few steps back. He still hadn’t calmed down, but he was at least ready to talk: “When were you going to tell me? After it was a done deal?

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not staking a claim here. I know we’ve only really been on one date, or, hell, maybe we’ve been on zero dates, maybe this was supposed to be our first real date, the first time we were both going in with eyes open. 

“And I know… l know _now_ that I clearly overestimated your feelings, which is your fault because you kept looking at me like it all meant something. And I know that it’s my fault too for assuming, because what would you even want with me, you’re a kid, you’re a good kid and I’m older and I’m short-tempered and I’m no good for you and I get it. 

“And I know that you’re obviously really focused on your career and you wanted guidance, you just wanted my advice... And I know that I misjudged your ambition, since you were obviously considering the best career move while you were still stuck at Manhattan SVU. 

“And I know you told me… You told me many times that you couldn’t fit in and you were having trouble but I thought things had gotten better. And I know that I was probably a fun way to pass the time while you waited, though I don’t know why you even bothered with our conversations, why you didn’t just cut to the chase, why you didn’t just sleep with me, why you let me believe… 

“I mean, I know that we’re not… We haven’t even… I’m not anything to you. 

“But still, I think I deserved… You should have told me. You could have told me. What was the point of keeping it a secret? You can do whatever you want. I wouldn’t have tried to stop you. 

“You should have told me that you were leaving.” 

Sonny was speechless. He was bowled over by the intensity of Rafael’s outburst, and also by the intensity of his own emotions after seeing Rafael let it all out like that. He stared in surprise as the counselor opened his briefcase and took out Sonny’s transfer request forms. The forms that Sonny had filled out over 4 months ago, but had then chucked into one of his desk drawers, never to be seen again.

Except Sonny also kept his old case notes in that drawer; except Sonny had just told Rafael to go through that same drawer, without thinking. He didn’t even remember those forms were still in there. He didn’t think…

Rafael took one step closer; most of his anger had dissipated, turned into faux nonchalance, but it was clear he was still upset. He was taking in shallow breaths and he wouldn’t look Sonny in the eye. He just held out the papers and Sonny took them. Sonny, who never realized, who never hoped…

Sonny flipped through the application forms. He then said, “Rafael…” in a voice so gentle that the other man could not resist looking up. Sonny didn’t want to prolong Rafael’s misery even for a second: “I never signed them.” 

Clearly that wasn’t what Rafael expected to hear, and he muttered “What?” in confusion.

It was Sonny who was holding out the papers now, having opened each document to its last page, wanting Rafael to see. Rafael warily took back the forms and saw, clearly for the first time, that there were several fields left blank.

Sonny reiterated: “I never signed the forms. I never even filled out the dates.”

Rafael was still too upset to understand: “So what? You were obviously going to sign them when you…”

Sonny stopped him: “No. I never signed the forms because I decided not to put in for a transfer. I changed my mind about leaving.”

Rafael took a breath and, for the first time since he’d rushed through Sonny’s door, started regaining his composure. He gingerly asked, “When? When did you change your mind?” 

Sonny smiled softly and said, “When? About 2 months ago. After you told me to suck it up. But you should really be asking why.” 

Rafael’s entire face changed. His frown was replaced by the beginnings of a smile and he got a glint in his eye; a tired glint, but a glint nonetheless. He finally looked more like himself as he whispered, “So… You’re not leaving.” 

Sonny, calmer now that he could see Rafael was OK, took a step closer and said, “Nope.”

Rafael looked like he wanted to say a million different things, and was having trouble deciding where to start. He also looked like he was starting to get embarrassed by his, as it turned out, unnecessary speech: “Oh. Good. Because I was lying. I mean, I was lying about a lot of things, but mostly about me not trying to stop you. I was never gonna let you go anywhere.”

Sonny took yet another step closer, his smile turning into a grin, and this time Rafael took a step too. Sonny leaned in, just a little, and breathed.

Rafael rolled his eyes – there he was! Now Sonny was sure he was back to normal – and said, “Ugh, this is going to take forever!” as he grabbed Sonny by the neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

At first Rafael didn’t even properly kiss him. He just pressed his lips against Sonny’s and held them there, exhaling, his large hands framing Sonny’s face. Sonny was stunned to realize that was a display of emotion; Rafael had genuinely thought that Sonny was leaving. That they would never get to...

Sonny put his arms around Rafael, one hand firmly caressing his back, the other tugging on his neck a little until their lips were momentarily separated; Sonny looked at Rafael for a second, smiled as if to reassure him, kissed him sweetly, once; twice; and then started kissing him for real. Lips on lips, tongues prying mouths open, Rafael taking his time sucking on Sonny’ bottom lip – a-ha, so he  _ had _ been looking all those times – and Sonny lazily licking at Rafael’s mouth. 

After a while, Sonny pulled away slightly, his fingers still stroking Rafael’s neck, but Rafael clearly wasn’t about to let this end; he started kissing Sonny’s jaw and sliding his hands up and down Sonny’s sides. Sonny sighed in pleasure and snaked his long arms around Rafael’s waist, pulling him closer and kissing him again.

The kiss quickly started getting more heated, and hands started to wander. Rafael put his arms around Sonny’s neck, one hand playing with his still wet hair, as Sonny dared to slip his hands lower, getting a handful of Rafael’s ass – which, bucket list item, right there. Rafael took that as permission to deepen the kiss dangerously, biting and licking at Sonny’s lips.

Sonny couldn’t help himself; he put his hands on Rafael’s hips and pulled him even closer. As he felt Rafael against him, hardness on hardness, his brain short-circuited. Then Rafael started grinding on him, just a little, hands on the small of his back, and Sonny moaned deeply for about 5 seconds straight. Rafael laughed into the kiss but didn’t stop; neither the kissing nor the grinding.

Sonny was losing his mind. His hands still on Rafael’s hips, squeezing, Sonny gently steered him backwards towards the couch and sat him down, interrupting their kiss for a few seconds. Rafael looked up at him. He couldn’t help staring at Sonny’s lips, all red now. He couldn’t help reaching up and tracing Sonny’s lips with the pads of his fingers. Sonny just breathed and poked out his tongue a little, until it touched one of Rafael’s fingers. Now it was Rafael’s turn to moan.

Sonny, still standing, put his hands on Rafael’s chest and pushed gently. Rafael, for once totally pliant, sat all the way back and Sonny climbed on his lap, riding him. Rafael started kissing his jaw again but, before things could get too heavy, Sonny had to get something off his chest: “What you said…”

Rafael stopped him: “I told you. I was lying. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Sonny insisted, his eyes pleading: “That’s not what I mean. You know you didn’t overestimate my feelings, right? If anything, I’m pretty sure you underestimated them.”

Rafael got another previously unseen look on his face; he looked overwhelmed. He held Sonny’s face again and kissed him deeply. Sonny’s heart was pounding, and he could feel Rafael’s heart doing the same.

But Rafael’s heart wasn’t the only part of him that Sonny could feel; he started grinding again, pressing down with his hips, as Rafael’s hands left his face and started pulling at his t-shirt. It was at that point that Sonny realized he was an idiot; Rafael was still wearing his coat, plus a three piece suit underneath it. How had Sonny let  _ that _ happen? 

So, Sonny stood up again, to Rafael’s dismay, and said “Up! Get up!” Rafael grumbled but complied, and Sonny got to work. He started taking off Rafael’s clothes in-between kisses to his neck and face; coat first, then jacket, then vest. Rafael was so out of it he could only complete the task of pulling Sonny’s flimsy little t-shirt off.

Sonny finally stood shirtless, though Rafael was still wearing his shirt and tie. That tie became the sole focus of Sonny’s suddenly clumsy fingers, as Rafael’s hands started roaming his naked skin. Sonny finally got the tie undone and pulled it off, as Rafael’s hands started getting precariously low on his back.

Sonny tried to quickly remove the shirt too but Rafael made that harder for him; he slid his fingers under Sonny’s waistband, touching the soft skin of his hips and pressing there. Sonny groaned and forgot what he was even doing, instead tugging at Rafael’s shoulders and kissing him again. Rafael tried to sit back down so they could get back to business but Sonny stopped him, quietly saying, “Let’s go to the bedroom.” 

Rafael nodded and followed Sonny into the small room, where they were both suddenly met by a minor mess; a pair of jeans and an array of shirts were covering the bed and the closet door was still ajar. Sonny scrambled to put the clothes away – throw them haphazardly in the closet, that is – but Rafael still managed to snatch a dark blue shirt out of the pile: “I like this. Is this what you were going to wear? And the jeans? I’ve never seen you in jeans.”

Sonny kissed Rafael long enough to distract him, grabbing the shirt and tossing it away, and then said: “I’ll wear it next time. And I’ll have you know that I look great in jeans”. Rafael hummed and whispered “I’m sure you do” as he gripped Sonny by the hips and pulled him closer.

They started kissing again and Sonny was finally able to take Rafael’s shirt and undershirt off – and just how many layers was the man wearing? Sonny eagerly ran his fingers through Rafael’s chest hair and over his belly; he then tried to slide his hands even lower, but he was beaten to the punch. Rafael moved his hands to the waistband of Sonny’s sweatpants again, except this time he pulled them down slowly, making sure to get the underwear too. Sonny stood there, bare, breathing heavily as Rafael took hold of him, stroking firmly.

This was too much; Sonny needed to feel Rafael, and he tried, but a pair of pants and a belt – seriously, so many unnecessary clothing items – stood in his way. Sonny tried to focus, which was not easy, and reached for Rafael’s belt first. He unbuckled it and Rafael, still stroking him, involuntarily bucked forward, rubbing against Sonny’s thigh.

After a few seconds, Sonny was finally able to undo those damn pants and he just yanked them down, yanked everything down, impatience getting the better of him. Rafael started chuckling until Sonny pushed him backwards, onto the bed, and then climbed on top of him again.

Sonny slowly let his body sink lower and cover Rafael’s completely; he pushed down and then forward, as Rafael grabbed hold of his ass and held him close, right there. Sonny started kissing Rafael again, this time with more purpose; Rafael, in turn, started thrusting upwards, every thrust met by Sonny’s hips pressing down. They got into a rhythm for a while, and then they started moving faster.

One thing was clear; this wasn’t going to last much longer. Rafael was the first to broach the subject, murmuring, “Sonny, Sonny.” 

Sonny stopped moving and looked at Rafael with curiosity.

Rafael pushed up again and said, “First of all, I didn’t say you could stop.” Sonny grinned like an idiot and Rafael rolled his eyes – “I love it when you do that” was Sonny’s unhelpful comment – as they both started grinding again. 

But Rafael still hadn’t made his point: “Secondly,  _ secondly _ , are you listening?” – this time Sonny just hummed as he licked Rafael’s neck – “Sec…  _ uh _ , secondly, I don’t know about you but I’m getting dangerously close. So if we’re going to…” 

Sonny looked up, his brain finally having caught up with him: “Oh. We don’t have to. Not right now.” Rafael raised an eyebrow and Sonny explained: “I mean, I don’t think I can last either. And when we… We should take our time, do it right. But right now I’m too far gone to…” Sonny’s brain was apparently not all there, after all.

Rafael took pity on him once more, kissed him lightly and said “OK, next time then. So what do we do now?”

It seemed that Sonny was far more comfortable with his hands than he was with words. He lifted himself off of Rafael just a little, and slid his arm in between their bodies. He then, for the first time, grabbed hold of Rafael, who suddenly became a lot less talkative too.

Sonny touched him with long fingers, squeezing and releasing a few times, a fascinated look on his face, Rafael shakily breathing under him. After a while, Sonny pushed down again, lining their bodies up just right, and then he took both himself and Rafael in his hand. Sonny started stroking gently at first; Rafael whimpered, actually whimpered, and Sonny’s whole body jerked forward in response.

Sonny started moving his hand faster as Rafael slowly began to lose it; he just moaned, ineffectually pawing at Sonny’s shoulders, caressing his face, licking at his lips. Sonny was close too; he kept going until his movements started becoming erratic. It was then that Rafael took one of his large hands and covered Sonny’s; they were now stroking together, moving together, breathing together.

Sonny was the first to let go; he thrust once, harder, he stopped moving and then he started trembling as he looked right into Rafael’s eyes. Rafael squeezed a little more, enjoying Sonny’s reaction, and then pulled his hand away. He rubbed Sonny’s cheek, taking in the dazed expression on his face and the little sounds that were coming out of his beautiful mouth. Then, right as Sonny was coming down, Rafael started slowly pecking at his lips.

Sonny took a few moments to catch his breath, licked at Rafael’s mouth and then took hold of him again; Rafael kept trying to kiss him until Sonny whispered, “No, I wanna see.” Rafael was perfectly content to let Sonny rest his forehead against his own, looking down, as he stroked faster and faster. It didn’t take long; Sonny stroked him quickly at first, then long and hard, and then he purred “Come on…” until Rafael lost it. He shuddered, his entire body shaking and, with it, Sonny who was still on top of him. Sonny, who did kiss Rafael this time, swallowing his moans. 

After a minute, Sonny tried to move away; Rafael, still breathing heavily, held him in place and began idly caressing his back. Sonny shifted a little in Rafael’s arms and started placing small kisses on his shoulder.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the evening was a blur. A sexy blur. The two of them stayed in bed, kissing, making out even, like teenagers. Sonny had the urge to pinch himself, to make sure it was all actually happening – the semi-cuddling was especially hard to believe – but he settled for pinching Rafael instead, which was not appreciated.

But, much as Sonny was enjoying himself – and that was a huge understatement, by the way – he also needed sustenance; so, a few minutes after eleven, and in a total non sequitur, he said: “I’m starving.”

Rafael let out a snort and joked: “Well, I’m pretty sure that we’ve lost our reservations by now.”

Sonny, mirroring Rafael’s earlier words, said “Next time” and leapt out of bed, returning almost immediately with a whole stack of delivery menus. Rafael, who could barely lift his head, marveled at Sonny’s youthful vigor. They quickly settled on pizza and, after Sonny ordered, he pulled a grumbling Rafael off the bed so they could have a shower.

By the time they were finished – in more ways than one, and, wow, Sonny’s brain was finally joining the party for real – the pizza had arrived. Sonny let Rafael borrow some of his clothes – which looked adorable on him, not that Sonny would ever say that out loud – and they sat on Sonny’s couch, this time just to eat.

After they were done eating, and as Sonny was about to ask if Rafael was up for a sleepover, his eyes fell on the transfer request forms, now discarded on the living room floor along with most of his and Rafael’s clothes.

As soon as Rafael realized what Sonny was looking at, he seemed to get uncomfortable, but then he visibly steeled himself before saying, “OK Sonny, spit it out. Say ‘ _ Rafael, let’s talk about our feelings _ _._ _ ’ _ Come on.” 

Sonny smiled: “We don’t have to do this right now either.”

Rafael raised an impressed eyebrow at Sonny’s callback, but then actually started talking. About his feelings. Kind of. Sonny didn’t want to blink, in case he missed anything: “Look Sonny, I said a lot of things. I didn’t mean most of them. Or maybe I meant them at the time, when I thought… But now I know. How you feel. So…”

Sonny interrupted, a grin on his face, and playfully asked: “How  _ do _ I feel?” 

Rafael narrowed his eyes – he sure did that a lot around Sonny – and, in full snark mode, said, “Oh, I don’t know, at first I thought you just wanted to get in my pants, but apparently I  _ massively _ underestimated your feelings because you can’t live without m–” 

Sonny stopped him: “OK, OK, so you do know how I feel. Good.” Rafael watched him in surprise, and Sonny looked back at him, defiant: “I’m putting it all out there, counselor. You don’t have to, but I am.”

Rafael seemed thrown, but then got an inquisitive look in his eye: “Is that how you feel? About me?”

Sonny earnestly – if not brazenly – said, “Yep. I was even willing to put up with an entire squad who hated me if it meant I could come to your office and spend a few minutes of my week getting insulted.” 

Rafael appeared to feel contrite: “You felt that way? Even at the beginning? When I made fun of you for going to night school?”

Sonny briefly revived his old pout: “Well… No. At first I really did just want to get in your pants. You’re hot when you’re insulting people.”

Rafael laughed, mostly at himself for falling for it. Still, now he had to know: “So when  _ did _ you start… feeling something else?” 

Sonny almost lost his resolve, because this was getting real, but chose to be honest: “Remember when I got you the cannoli, about 3 months ago?” Rafael nodded, smiling at the memory. Sonny elaborated: “I mean, I always had a crush on you. Wanted to impress you. I even started dressing better for you, did you know that?”

Rafael smirked, but Sonny didn’t let that sidetrack him: “But that day, in your office, when you asked me why I wasn’t being my normal, annoying self, why I wasn’t offering you legal advice anymore… It kinda sounded like you missed my useless comments. And that kinda made me happy. It’s dumb but that’s when I knew I had it bad.” Dammit. Sonny was blushing again. He really thought that was behind him by now.

Rafael couldn’t help himself; he slid closer to Sonny, put an arm around him and pulled him in. He started kissing Sonny’s flushed cheeks as he whispered, “Do you know how hard it was for me not to react every time you blushed? How hard I tried to convince myself it didn’t mean anything?”

Sonny returned the kisses, embarrassment slowly fading. Wanting to lighten the mood, he said, “Come on, Rafael, I’m doing all the work here. Why did you start liking  _ me _ ? Was it my moustache?” 

Rafael deadpanned “I wish I could say no.”

That… was a joke, right? Sonny pulled away and saw a strange, almost guilty look on the counselor’s face: “You… Even back then?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Rafael chuckled and said “I’m not going to say the moustache was the  _ main _ reason, but I will say that, even when you had it, I was still…” 

Sonny was loving this: “Into me? Wow. This is amazing. Should I grow it back?”

Rafael was no longer laughing. Sonny, on the other hand, was snickering. Until Rafael’s glare stopped him. Eventually.

After a few seconds of silence, Sonny spoke: “I never realized. Not until a few days ago, when we had dinner together. I always just thought you found me amusing. I never imagined that you would ever look at me like that.”

Rafael softened up and quietly said, “You were right, you know. About that day, in my office. I did miss your little comments. But mostly I missed your attitude. I’m sure you know that I always picked on you a little more.” 

Sonny snorted and said, “You don’t say.” 

Rafael side-eyed him and kept talking: “Well, I only did it because I liked your reactions. I–”

Sonny interrupted him, staring in disbelief: “Wait, so you were pulling my pigtails?”

Rafael remained undeterred: “I liked that you never got angry, you never got nasty. You just sassed me right back and went on your way, like you were too confident to let me, or anyone, get to you. Until that seemed to change. And I guess I hated seeing you so miserable. For some strange reason, I wanted to make you feel better.”

Rafael’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper, but he was still looking right at Sonny as he spoke: “And then we talked, and then we talked some more, and you seemed more like yourself again; you were funny and you had that spark and you kept blushing and I just… I couldn’t deny it anymore.”

Sonny, who had been staring transfixed this entire time, muttered, “And here I thought you didn’t want to talk about your feelings.” Rafael smiled and kissed Sonny, but soon pulled back: “Can I ask you one last thing?” Sonny nodded and Rafael spoke: “About the transfer. Why didn’t you ever tell me? That you were considering it? I knew you weren’t happy at the precinct but I never realized you were seriously thinking about leaving.” 

Sonny just shrugged and said: “Well, I did tell you the important stuff. How I felt. And you really helped me; things have gotten a lot better. But, by the time you and I started spending more time together, I had already changed my mind. There was no transfer; I was in it for the long haul.” Rafael blinked.

Sonny went on: “I’m just sorry you found out that way. I had totally forgotten about those papers. I never meant for you to get upset.”

Rafael tried to downplay it, teasing, “I wasn’t  _ that _ upset”, and Sonny was all too happy to let the subject drop and tease him back: “OK. As long as you know that your little rant was completely inaccurate. Especially that part about you being no good for me. If anybody should be saying that it’s m–” 

Rafael, suddenly serious, said: “Don’t say that. I’m lucky.”

Sonny’s brain proved unhelpful in providing an appropriate verbal response – his thoughts were suddenly hazy, and along the lines of ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t cry’ – so he simply leaned in, put his arms around Rafael’s neck and the two met in a kiss.

~ ~ ~

Sonny got up on Monday morning feeling like he had won the lottery. Rafael had stayed at his place basically the whole weekend. They had even managed to go on a proper dinner date on Saturday – Rafael, apparently, had a lot of pull at a lot of restaurants. Sonny had even worn that dark blue shirt. And then he had taken it off. Rafael had finally left on Sunday, late in the afternoon, grumbling that he hadn’t gotten any work done. Sonny almost felt weird waking up alone on Monday.

Still, he got up and tried to get ready for work, a process that was delayed significantly by his very distracting thoughts. When he eventually opened his closet door, expecting that same jumble of discarded shirts that he still hadn’t gotten around to sorting out, he found everything in order. And how; Rafael had, apparently, found the time to go through his closet and match each of Sonny’s suits with a few different shirts and ties, creating several combinations. Sonny wasn’t sure if that was sweet or creepy. But he was sure that he liked it. And he was also pretty sure that some of his ties were very possibly missing.

With a smile on his face, Sonny got dressed – in one of his pre-selected outfits, of course – and left for work. For the first time in a very long time, he was looking forward to going in. He had found his lost eagerness again. His enthusiasm. His confidence. The situation at the precinct had improved, and Sonny was now determined to make sure it would keep improving. He was determined to stay where he belonged.

On his way in, he picked up coffees for the rest of the squad, though he opted out of the cannoli; Sonny didn’t want to push his luck. He walked in the squad room, finding Amaro already there; Sonny picked out one of the coffees and set it down on Amaro’s desk hesitantly. That move was greeted by a genuine – if sleepy – smile and a gruff, morning-voiced, “Thanks, Carisi”. OK, so Sonny had switched from pastries to beverages. Still. It was working for him. 

The rest of the squad came in and Fin announced he was temporarily in charge, since Benson would be taking the morning off for a meeting with the mayor. Fin’s first order of business was to take Sonny out on the field with him, for a change, to get some follow-up witness statements. It was a nice, uneventful day, and the two of them even talked about a new video game they had both recently gotten into.

It was those little things that made Sonny realize that he had been closing himself off; bringing people food, pleasantly chatting about everyday stuff, that’s who Sonny was. He wouldn’t forget that again.

After he and Fin were done, and as it was almost lunch time, they picked up some sandwiches for everybody – at Fin’s request, thank you very much. They walked in the squad room and Sonny started opening up the bags at his desk, ready to distribute the food.

Just then, Rafael walked out of Benson’s office. Sonny was surprised, not to mention excited, but he really tried to play it cool, if only for the sake of the other detectives – because Rafael would obviously see right through him.

Of course, Sonny just ended up not-very-coolly blurting out: “Oh. Counselor. Hi.”

Rafael smirked – which, thankfully, would still appear pretty normal to bystanders – and just said, “Detective”, nodding suggestively. Or, well, nodding like he normally did. There was very little difference.

Rollins exited Benson’s office a few seconds later and, after taking one look at Sonny awkwardly standing over half-opened bags of food, said, “What’s up with you, Carisi?” 

As Rafael was trying not to laugh, Sonny went back to opening the bags and said, “I’m good. Just a little distracted.” 

Rollins, no dummy, teased: “Distracted? Thinking about that hot date you had Friday night?”

Sonny was already starting to regret that whole “don’t close yourself off” business.

Unfortunately for him, Rafael didn’t let that drop: “Hot date? Really? I didn’t think you had it in you, Carisi.”

Sonny was turning a new shade of red. To make things worse, Amaro had also joined the party, trying to get some food but also cracking up at the whole exchange.

Rollins – Rollins! Thanks,  _ counselor _ – took pity on him and said, “Come on guys, quit it.” 

Sonny, looking a little too intently at Rafael, snapped: “Yeah,  _ guys _ . Quit it. I don’t kiss and tell.” Rollins and Amaro both raised their eyebrows, impressed, and it was Rafael’s turn to get self-conscious. Not that anyone would ever know it by looking at him. No one except Sonny. 

As the others scattered, busy with their food, Sonny looked at Rafael, still standing there but clearly about to leave, and said, “Anything else I can help you with, counselor?” 

Rafael, in his ‘we’re in public’ dismissive tone, replied, “Actually, you can help me carry some of the evidence boxes from Sergeant Benson’s office to the car.” 

Sonny, disturbed to realize he was still excited by this haughty side of Rafael, immediately dropped his lunch and followed him into Benson’s thankfully empty office. Just as Sonny was noticing that no one had bothered to pull up the blinds all morning, Rafael closed the door and gripped him by the shoulders, turning him around so they were face to face. Sonny was the one who smirked this time, as Rafael muttered, “You don’t kiss and tell, huh?” before pulling him in for a deep kiss.

Sonny was proud of himself because he was only mildly freaking out about the fact they were making out at the precinct, not to mention in an unlocked office. Fortunately – or unfortunately – before Sonny could do much more than just paw at Rafael’s sides, the kiss was over.

Rafael stepped back, straightened out his own clothes and then idly poked at Sonny’s tie, saying “Nice outfit,  _ Detective _ . Now grab a box.” Sonny chuckled and helped Rafael carry the boxes out to a car that was parked right outside. 

They were in public, so they couldn’t do much, but Rafael still looked at him affectionately and said, “I’ll see you tonight? Maybe you can come over to my place this time.” 

Sonny smiled and replied, “I can’t wait.” 

Just as he was getting in the car, Rafael nonchalantly said, “If you’re nice, I’ll cook you dinner.” 

He waited until he could see Sonny’s dumbfounded expression and then he started the car, just barely getting to hear Sonny’s “Wait, you can cook?” before he drove off.

Sonny was pretty sure he'd never stop smiling. As he headed back, he realized he hadn’t been this happy in a long time, if ever. He had so much already, and he still had a lot to look forward to; he was slowly but surely earning his place on the squad, he had his graduation coming up, he had a little niece or nephew on the way, and he had Rafael. There was one little thing Sonny was decidedly not looking forward to, and that was the rest of the squad finding out about him and Rafael. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to live that down. Still, that was far into the future – or maybe not so far, going by his penchant for blushing. For now, Sonny only had one thing on his mind. Dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. Ever. And it is Barisi. And it’s Sonny-centric, too. Yeah, I don't know either. I do know that it comes from a place of love. And bad taste. I only decided to post it because there is a sad dearth of Barisi stories and I feel for my people.
> 
> I welcome all comments, concrit included. I have no ambition to write, not really, but this story forced my hand. It’s far from perfect (it’s a little long-winded and maybe a bit repetitive and I mention character names a bit too often to get around awkward sentence construction and the dialogue is just thrown in randomly, in the middle of the paragraphs, and the timeline may or may not hold up to scrutiny and some of the tenses may be questionable and feel free to add to this list of flaws) but, dammit, I like it. I hope you like it too.
> 
> I tried to incorporate a handful of canon events as well as some case-related details, just to add a touch of realism to this story about Carisi and Barba doing it. So. Yeah. I did work hard on the dialogue, to the point where it no longer makes me cringe. Much. And, frankly, I’d like to think that Sonny and Rafael aren’t terribly out of character. At any rate, I tried.
> 
> Final warnings (which I conveniently place here, at the very end. Unless you clicked on the notes first, in which case oops): this fic is unbetaed and I am not a native speaker of English.
> 
> UPDATE: Thanks to your helpful comments regarding the formatting of this fic (very special thanks to headbuttingbears, who provided me with advice and a great link!), and after seeing what the fic looked like on a phone (yikes), I decided to clean up the formatting quite a bit. I've broken up the paragraphs into much more manageable chunks and I've also reformatted the dialogue completely (using mostly proper punctuation, I hope, as well as more paragraph breaks, to make the whole story more streamlined). 
> 
> I should reiterate that the fic remains otherwise unchanged; the content is exactly the same, but I hope that now it will be easier to read, especially on your devices. So, in case you feel like re-reading (and I know I’ve re-read the handful of Barisi fics we have, numerous times each), or if the previous formatting prevented you from enjoying or even reading the story, you might want to download it again. 
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
